Little Sister
by Lystan
Summary: On a six week trip to Portland, things get a little tense for the crew of the Arctic Warrior when Epps' little sister hitches a ride. Munder is torn between loyalty to his friends and his plain desire for the feisty Lena. Will love find a way or will Epps kill him first?
1. Captain To The Bridge

_Disclaimer: **Coarse Language** - based on the dialog from the movie, I can only assume they curse like sailors. Are we really surprised? I took a few artistic liberties with the layout of the ship. It works nicely for the story, but I doubt the ship in the movie was really this big. So, know that I'm not a complete idiot. Also, I do not own Ghost Ship or any of it's characters. This story is mine, though, and I hope you enjoy it thoroughly._

* * *

**Chapter 1: Captain To the Bridge**

* * *

He grinned into her hair with his hand up her shirt and her tongue in his ear.

This was a _very _bad idea. Bringing himself to focus on making words come out of his mouth, he found he was laughing when he said "Jesus fucking Christ, Lena, you haven't heard a damn thing I've said have you?"

"Nope."

Her fingernails were being dragged up his stomach, bringing his shirt up with them. She tugged on his earlobe with her teeth, her breath cool where she'd left his ear wet. When she spoke, her voice was full of lust and her breathing was heavy, "I have no idea what you were trying to tell me."

For the last fifteen minutes he'd been doing his best to keep both hands on the helm, but she was not making it easy on him. The one that still remained was white-knuckled in the effort to stay where it was. The other, however, was finding a way underneath her bra. Mission completed, it began roughly exploring the soft skin and hard nipple it discovered. She whimpered in his ear, one knee sliding up his outer thigh. He felt like he was going to break in half - it was so good and so very, very bad.

He ground his gum between his teeth, determined to stop this from getting any worse. He was close to the point of letting go and taking her right there on the wooden floor, steering and the sea be damned. Its not like he could see where he was going, anyway. Damned rain wouldn't let up, there was barely visibility and they were crawling as it was. He was seriously considering telling Santos to cut the engines and tearing her clothes off.

_Damn her._

He tried to return his hand to the wheel, but it wasn't listening to him. Instead, it slid down her side, around her hip and up her thigh, pulling her closer to him. It locked itself onto her knee and used it to wrap her leg around his waist. He then wrapped his arm around her waist to support her.

Her hands came down fast from under his shirt, pulling at his belt buckle. She was fluid, moving from one motion to the next without stopping, like she'd planned the whole thing.

_She probably did, the dirty bitch._

Through clenched teeth he said, "Well maybe if you were listening inste-fuck! Jesus! Lena, what are you doing?"

In the time it took for him to form a sentence, she had him out and ready to go. She nuzzled his neck as she used both hands to explore what she shouldn't be touching. His heart did double-time and-against his will-he leaned into her. Her hands were all over him, expert fingers tightening the already wound coil that burned in the pit of his stomach.

_She is just not playing fair, the little hooker, and she fucking knows it.  
_  
He'd had a hard-on the minute she slid herself between him and the wheel. She'd asked innocently enough, but he should have known better. Who wants to learn to steer a boat? It was boring; he felt bored just explaining it to her. He hadn't been able to keep himself as far from her as he should have and his crotch had brushed against her jeans as he leaned forward to flip a switch.

She'd pushed her ass back into him, and the "Issue in the Bathroom" came flooding back. He couldn't have stopped it if he'd tried. And he didn't. God no, not with the way she made him feel. Three shades of amazing and attractive as sin, what red-blooded man could say no? Well, he hadn't checked lately but he was still pretty sure his blood was red and almost all of it was heading south. He rested his forehead on her shoulder, biting his lip as hard as he could stand it. She was doing a great job, an excellent job, a fan-fucking-tastic job, but it was gonna get him killed. He just knew it. He looked at her, his eyes pleading with his voice, "Please stop that."

She pouted, "I wasn't listening again. Did you say 'stop' or 'don't stop'?" Her thumb started making laps around him and he instinctively pushed toward it.

His response was also pleading, "Don't stop..."

"Yeah, that's what I thought you said." She tilted her head back as he pushed his open mouth to her neck and leaned heavily against the wheel to keep herself upright. His stray hand had found its way under her shirt again and he pinched her through her bra, no patience left to get underneath it. She bucked against him, moaning in his ear. His other hand was slowly falling from the wheel.

His tongue wound itself around her earlobe and brought it into his mouth. He felt her shiver, and he growled through clenched teeth, "God, Lena, you're a filthy bitch."

She went weak beneath him, on the verge of collapsing, but they both froze at the sound of the commanding voice that came from behind them.

"**MUNDER**! Get your _fucking_ hands off my _sister_!"

_Shit...Epps._

He stopped doing what he was doing instantly, his roaming hand withdrawn and formed into a fist. He punched the wheel. "God DAMN IT."

She, however, did not stop...she only lowered her leg and peered around him. He watched her face as carefully as he could, her hand only slowing, still administering its wonderful torture. He was trying not to push any harder against her as she kept it up.

"Shotgun?" He whispered cautiously. It was the most he could manage.

Lena didn't spare him a glance, still looking around his shoulder, "Not this time."

He reached down and pushed her hand away, not enjoying the broken contact. She barely noticed. She shimmied out from between him and the helm, her glare focused on her sister as she straightened her shirt. He rested his forehead on the wooden wheel, his body already reacting adversely to his anti-climax. He felt like his testicles were crawling inside him...his guts on fire. He couldn't handle two more weeks of this.

"Munder, just what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

He shook his head, still bent forward, "I'm just trying to steer the fucking boat, Epps!" Even to his own ears he sounded like he was going to cry. Three weeks of sexual tension, frustration, and the onset of blue-balls would definitely do that to you. "I swear to God!"

He didn't want to turn around. Not only where his pants still undone and his dick hanging out, he was pretty fucking sure he didn't want to look an angry Epps in the eye right now. Shotgun or no, she was not going to handle this well. He turned his head slightly-his lower half in utter chaos-so he could judge where she was on the bridge. At least his erection was lessening.

_Finally wised up from the last time.  
_  
Lena stood about a foot from him, blocking Epps' view of his condition, but he was sure she could tell. He could see her face over Lena's shoulder and it was not pretty. It was murderous.

Lena's voice was icy. "What's your God damn problem, Maureen?"

"Don't call her _Maureen_..." he whined. They were already in deep shit, why was she pushing her buttons?

Epps didn't seem to notice. "Just shut your fucking mouth, Munder. I can't even believe you, Lena. I talk your way onto my boat and this is the thanks I get? You are the most ungrateful little tramp!"

"I'm ungrateful? That's a load and you know it! It's not my fault you're an overbearing old bag who doesn't know when to keep her nose out of my _fucking _business!" Lena threw her hands up at her sister.

Munder was almost able to stand straight now, but the pain wasn't going away quite as quickly as he'd hoped. He wouldn't be able to walk, let alone run like he wished he could. He tried covertly to put his pants back in order, but it was a painful process and difficult to do in complete silence.

"Jesus, Lena! _This_ is your business?" Epps threw her hand toward Munder. "You seriously have the _worst_possible taste in men! You're better off sleeping with a god damned pig!"

"Oh, aren't you just full of sisterly concern. Is that because you know from personal experience or because the pig was just better?" Lena glared, spitting out each word like venom.

Munder was buckling his belt at that point. That brought him to half-mast pretty quick. "Yeah, thanks a lot."

Neither woman even looked at him, too busy glaring at the other to break eye-contact, but both responded, in stereo, "Fuck off, Munder!"

He snapped his mouth shut, noticing his gum had lost its flavor. He pulled it out of his mouth and stuck it under the console. He felt the pain subsiding a little but he wasn't about to make any sudden movements trying to throw it away. He'd just have to do that later when Greer found it.

Epps had her arms crossed now, her face stony and viscous. To her, there was no one else in the room but she and Lena. "Did you seriously think I was going to be okay with this? We are a crew. You came on board under the condition that you weren't going to screw anything up for us. If you keep this stupid shit up its going to get somebody kicked off. Not just you, _me_. _My_ reputation and integrity are at stake here, not yours, if you'd stop _whoring_around long enough to notice! Murphy put a lot of trust in me bringing you on here and you can't just ..."

Finally able to stand without hunching, Munder decided it was time to call the captain. The two women were beginning to circle each other and neither one looked like they were about to back down. Also, he didn't feel like he should be listening in on their fight. The thought of having a shotgun brought into this was enough to clear his head. He put warning in his voice as he depressed the microphone button on the handset, "Murphy..."

There was a moment's pause before the speaker clicked and Munder could hear the captain's thick Irish accent come in over the chatter of the crew in the background, "What the fuck now, Munder?"

Epps' voice was beginning to get louder the longer her speech went on, and even though he wasn't listening, he knew things were going to blow up any second now. Thunder clapped outside and the rain came down harder. "You might want to get up here. Like, now."

"What's wrong?" came the instant reply.

"Storm's a brewin' and I'm not talking about the weather." He looked over at the two women as he spoke. They were still circling, Lena's shoulders hunched forward slightly and her hands in fists.

He hung up the handset as a loud clatter came from the stairs leading to the galley. Numerous sets of feet pounded up and the excited faces of Santos and Dodge peeked over the railing just as Epps was finishing her speech with "...and this isn't fucking  
Chicago!"

From her sister's reaction he could tell it had been a moving monologue. Moving in the sense that Lena was about to tear her sister's eyes out with her teeth. Lena's back was to him again but he could tell she wasn't happy. He forced himself to watch the compass, thinking to himself, _Eyes on the road, buddy._

"What gives you the right to lecture me on how to live my life? I haven't seen you in ten fucking years and now all the sudden you're my mom? Bite it, Maureen." She paused. "Also, I like how you consider 'whoring around' to be 1 out of 6 people in close quarters after two years. That's classy. And as for the rest of that shit, yeah, I gave it up. So what? Just because you're dead below the waist doesn't mean the rest of us are!"

Epps put her hands on her hips, shaking her head. "That's funny, coming from you."

Munder knew exactly what was about to happen, even if he didn't know what she meant by that. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lena's back snap straight as she stopped dead."What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Epps raised one eyebrow and looked at her sideways. "It's funny that you're calling _me _dead below the waist."

Munder barely managed to get an arm around her waist as Lena lunged forward, practically bellowing, "You fucking _bitch_!"

The helm spun slowly, Munder's attention focused solely on stopping Lena from tearing her sister apart. "Lena. Lena, hey. Woah. Just calm the fuck down." He wrapped his other arm around her chest pinning her arms enough that she couldn't hit him, too. His cheek pressed to hers as he kept trying to mutter calming things in her ear. "Chill out. Lena, come on baby."

Murphy had squeezed onto the bridge just as Munder had grabbed her. Calmly, he put his hands on Epps' shoulders to hold her back, saying something no one else could hear over another clap of thunder. He shook her a little until their eyes met and after another moment he let her go. She stayed where she was and Murphy turned toward Lena.

"Now, Elena..." Murphy held out his hand to ward off any attacks but it was a useless gesture. As soon as she heard him speak her name all the fight went out of her and she slumped against Munder's restraining arms. Murphy relaxed and stood between them with his hands on his hips, shaking his head.

Munder lifted her until she stood on her own feet and she slid her palm up his exposed forearm. He felt her grip tighten, a squeeze of appreciation, and she turned her face slightly toward him. It shouldn't have turned him on, but he was sure at this point a warm breeze would turn him on. Or was that a stiff breeze?

_Damn it! Not helping!_

He cleared his throat and let her go, grabbing hold of the helm again. Squinting through the glass windows, he tried to see if there was anything they were about to hit. The storm granted him a flash of lightening followed almost instantly by loud thunder. He couldn't even see the end of the ship. He busied himself with checking instruments and sonar, turning them back in the direction they had veered from. It didn't take long for him to forget his urges and focus on work.

Epps was still pretty wound up, though. "Murph, I'm asking you as a personal favor-separate these two."

Murphy looked at her like she'd spoken an alien language. His accent was thick on a normal basis, but when he was pissed it was even worse. "Ah'm less worried about these two," he gestured to Munder and Lena, "an' more fhockin' worried about the two of YOU!" He pointed at them with one hand each, his angry stare shifting from one to the other. Lena refused to look at him, Epps refused to look anywhere else.

"This is the second time in fortnight ah've had to break up a fight between yeh and ah was fed up the last time. Ah WILL NOT have this shit on my boat." He turned toward the older sister. "Epps, whot the fhock would yeh do, if yeh were me? Eh?"

She bit her thumbnail as she replied, averting her gaze. "I'd kick us off."

He looked at her with his eyebrows raised, in fake shock. "Oh, yah? That yer idea? Well hows 'bout ah throw the both of yeh overboard an' have done with it?"

Lena sat on the bench seat of the table behind her, her legs stretched out on the seat in front of her. She looked at her boots intently, a faint flush to her cheeks. Not that Munder would be watching. Nope, he didn't do stupid shit like that. He redirected his gaze to the sonar screen, pointing his face away from her as quickly as he could, and thought, _Do your job, don't get fired, keep it in your pants. Not so hard, right?_

He cussed under his breath at himself, then scratched the back of his head, feeling very uncomfortable.

Murphy noticed it, which was nice of him. "Munder, whotsa visibility?"

Munder flipped a switch that lit the console lights, just needing something to do before he replied, "Like, negative zero. We could be going backwards for all I know."

Epps snorted. "Like you'd know anyway."

Murphy told her to shut up. Munder felt his cheeks redden and made an effort not to grind his teeth together. Murphy saved him again. "Santos, shut 'er down. We'll try again in a few hours. Yer still on duty, Munder, till Greer gets some sleep, so don't fhockin' run off. " He turned to the expectant faces over the railing, "Dodge, drop the god damn anchor and all of ya get yer ugly faces out of mah sight."

Having been dismissed, they tramped off, boots thudding loudly and barely disguised laughter drifting up after them. Lena made a move toward the stairs but Murphy's voice stopped her.

"Not the two of yeh."

Epps and Lena stilled where they were and Murphy sank into the captain's chair, looking at them with disapproval. "Ladies, we're gonna have a talk."

They all sat in silence, listening quietly as the engines slowed to a stop. Dodge called in that the anchor was down and Munder was all too happy to get the hell out of there. He pulled his cigarettes from his shirt pocket while he turned everything off, tucking one behind his ear and putting another in his mouth. As he headed toward the stairwell, he noticed Lena motioning to him out of the corner of his eye. She was still staring down her boots but she was holding two fingers to her lips and tapping them there.

He was too surprised to ignore her silent request. He didn't even know she smoked. As he walked around the railing, he slid a cigarette into her expectant fingers. They closed around his but didn't let go right away. He would have stopped, if he felt like getting shot, but managed to squeeze back before breaking away. He felt guilty and he wasn't sure quite why. There were lots of reasons, he guessed, and he didn't need to pick just one.

He lit the cigarette in his mouth on his way down the stairs. He paused on the landing, wondering if she had a way to light it when he saw her fingers float delicately over the railing again. He slipped the lighter to her hand and sprinted down the remaining stairs.

* * *

As Munder ducked into the galley, Dodge and Santos snickered simultaneously. Dodge was sitting at the table with his back to the stairs, and when he turned around to look at Munder he jerked back quickly. "Jesus, buddy, don't take my eye out with that thing!"

Santos laughed loudly from the kitchen where he was making himself something to eat. Munder could see his smiling face peering around the partition. Scowling, he threw the first thing he grabbed, which was the TV remote, and it clattered into the sink. Dodge was still laughing when Munder pushed his head so hard he fell onto the bench seat sideways. "Thanks, assholes."

Their laughter doubled and Munder took a long drag. He turned toward the 'couch', which was really a wall bunk that they watched TV from. He shuffled some stuff around, then changed his mind and went to sit on the side of the table away from Dodge.

He shook his head, expelling smoke left and right as he sat down heavily. He rested his ankle on the corner of the tabletop and glowered at Dodge before running a hand over his messy hair. She'd fucked it all up, and half of it was falling out of the elastic band he used to pull it away from his face. He set to taking it out and pulling it all back again. Once he was done, it looked almost exactly the way it had before he'd done anything to it.  
_  
Fuck it_, he decided. With a quick jerk, it fell loose around his face. "I don't think I can take another two weeks of this, guys." He sounded miserable. He didn't have a problem telling Dodge how he felt. As his best friend, he already knew where he was coming from. The blonde man's smile fell slightly, showing his empathy despite his smiling eyes. Santos, however, felt no sympathy for him and he wasn't surprised there.

"Hey, man, don't act like we should feel bad for you!", his thick Latino accent creeping around the corner. He pointed a mayonnaise covered knife in Munder's direction, "You're gettin' more than either of us!"

Dodge laughed again, "Yeah, Munder. All I've gotten in the last three weeks is my hand."

Munder had taken another drag and he blew it out incredulously, his hands gesturing to either side of him, "What the fuck do you think _I've _been getting?"

Santos answered unseen from the kitchen, "Hers?"

Munder shook his head and drew in more smoke, "Not even, man." He glared at Santos as he came back into view, "I hope she comes after you next, you prick."

Santos held his hands out, one holding a jar, the other still holding the butter knife, "Fuck yeah! Bring it on!"

He started pumping his hips and slapping the air in front of himself, "She can come after me any day now. Uuunnh! Yeah! You like that, baby?"

That even made Munder snort; he and Dodge tried in vain to overcome their stomach-clenching fit of laughter as his antics got wilder. They still chuckled for a while after Santos was done air-humping the woman in question. He rested his head against the wall of the ship, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling as he sucked in the remainder of his cigarette. "Fuck me, she's a fucking tease."

Dodge had gone back to reading his book and nodded his agreement without committing his opinion. Santos wandered out of the kitchen, sandwich in hand, and hoisted himself onto the couch. "They all are, man. And you ain't gonna find one that's not."

Munder put out what was left of his smoldering habit in the ashtray and pulled the other cigarette out from behind his ear. He searched his pockets before remembering he'd left his lighter with Lena. As he got up to light it on the stove, he was thinking about her fingers tightening on his as he'd handed it to her.

He leaned forward and put his cigarette in the stove's flames and suddenly remembered how soft those fingers were. Not just against his own but against his neck, his back, his stomach and...other parts of him. _Bad idea, don't think about it._The pain started to increase in his gut and he grimaced. He stood up rubbing his eyes with one hand and turning off the stove with the other.

Ten days ago he didn't have this problem. He leaned against the counter and wondered how his life had gone to Hell in a hand-basket in only ten days. Holding the cigarette in his lips he rubbed his face with both hands trying to rid himself of his thoughts. With his hands over his eyes, scenes from the "Issue in the Bathroom" flashed through his head and he wanted to tear his hair out.

The way she'd felt against him, the smell of her hair, the sounds she made. Mostly he remembered the way she'd looked at him in the mirror. Her eyes haunted him and he couldn't look at her without seeing what he'd seen in the mirror that night. His stomach was burning again, he opened his eyes and tore the cigarette from his mouth. He looked over and noticed Dodge laughing at him.

"You've got it so bad, buddy." He snorted, trying to read his book but not as hard as he could have been. As Munder was about to fire back a nasty retort, they all heard a crash from above, and not even a second later Epps thundered down the stairs. She marched in the direction of the bunk she shared with her sister when Murphy's voice, laced with danger, halted her in her tracks.

"EPPS! Get your scrawny ass back here!"

She visibly fought the desire to disobey while knowing it was the right thing to go back and finish talking with them. Murphy obviously thought she'd taken too long.

"**NOW!****"**

She fought it for a moment longer before turning and heading back the way she came. As she turned, Munder caught her eye and she glared at him. In a quick movement she threw what she had been concealing in her hand and it hit him square in the chest. He cussed back at her as she returned to the bridge. He picked up what she'd thrown at him and discovered his own lighter.

He couldn't even wrap his mind around what had just happened. "What the fuck?" he exclaimed, throwing his almost finished cigarette in the sink. It hissed in the disposal drain and he spun around to leave. "I'm going to my fucking bunk, man. Screw this shit."

As he passed the table he heard Dodge tell him to wait. He looked back from the hallway in time to catch the bottle of lotion his friend had thrown to him. He waved it over his head in sarcastic thanks, turning his back on a new roar of laughter. He could hear them even after he'd closed the door behind him.


	2. The Issue In The Bathroom

_Disclaimer: **Coarse Language!** Also, I do not own Ghost Ship or any of it's characters. This story is mine, though, and I hope you enjoy it thoroughly. Reviews, critiques and editing are welcome!  
_

* * *

**Chapter 2: The Issue In the Bathroom**

* * *

He set the bottle of lotion on the night stand beside his bunk. He shared the small room with Dodge; their beds bolted to the wall, one above the other. They fondly compared it to a jail cell for that reason but neither of them really thought of it that way.

It was just cramped, and both of them being in there at the same time got a little awkward at times. They'd worked on Murphy's boat together for close to six years and had shared the room the entire time. They got along really well; there was little about each other that really bothered them anymore. Awkward made for interesting jokes, which made life bearable on the tiny boat. Humor kept cabin fever at bay.

He climbed onto the top bunk, rolling onto his back, leaving the lotion where it was - out of his reach. That wasn't why he'd come in here; he just needed some space. Some time to clear his head and _not_ think about her. And that wasn't working out. He reached up and pushed his fists into the metal ceiling above him.

Even though he'd taken the poster down, he could still see the model's hot body like it had been etched into the white paint. Except he couldn't remember her face and Lena's had replaced it, which was why he'd taken the damn thing down in the first place. He ground his teeth together, covering his eyes with both arms. Darkness filled his vision and he relaxed a little.

It didn't last long.

A little movie played in his head, sound and sensation included. It was the same thing he thought about every time he closed his eyes. It was like he hallucinated about what had happened, the memory just taking over and he had to re-live the "Issue in the Bathroom" all over again. He propped his knee up trying to ease the pain in his abdomen. Nothing worked anymore. He flipped over onto his stomach, burying his face in his pillow, hoping it would go away.

He turned his head for air and the lotion on the table below caught his eye. He groaned and buried his face again. He knew he wasn't going to stop thinking about it, and it would only get worse, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. It wasn't the same. He flipped the pillow over the back of his head, covering it with his arms. In the darkness he relaxed too much and he was swallowed in his memory.

It was their night to do the dishes. Dodge was washing because he threw paper, and Munder dried. Scissors, baby, were the way to go. They were discussing something unimportant, like they normally did. He hardly ever remembered their conversations because they were never about anything significant. He just knew that he and Dodge could talk about anything and find a way to make it conversation worthy.

Munder was chewing on a straw instead of smoking because Lena had bitched at him about getting ashes on the clean dishes. He'd laughed at her, but in an effort to make her smile again, he'd given in. Before everything happened he hadn't even known the effect she had on him. He was an idiot.

He was still an idiot.

Greer, Murphy, and Epps were topside trying to figure out weather patterns and plan of action crap. Everyone else was hanging out below deck. Lena was in her bunk preparing, and Santos was watching something on National Geographic because he lacked a chore at the moment. No one was really listening to it, as Santos was just as in on their conversation as they were.

They'd all known it was her night because she'd been looking forward to it all day. The ship didn't have its own fresh water source, but they had storage tanks for it. This didn't mean that their water supplies weren't strictly limited. As little fresh water as possible was used, and they rotated on a schedule that limited shower use to one person per day. With seven people on board, you got to shower once a week.

This trip was shorter than most and nobody had even been in the water since they left dock. Lena was new to life on a boat, though, and was used to taking a shower every day. She looked forward to her night and made a bigger deal about it then anyone else. This was the first time she'd gotten to use it since she'd come on board. They had talked her into skipping her first turn, just in case they needed the water for something later.

All afternoon she'd talked about how nice it would be to be clean again. Dodge wondered out loud what she'd done that qualified as dirty, and he and Munder had come up with a few things they wished she'd done. They may have been laughing about that very thing when she walked out.

At first none of them noticed, and she walked out to the table and back before Dodge let out a low whistle. Munder had turned his head toward him, then followed his gaze. He froze with his mouth half open and the straw slowly slipped out and fell unnoticed to the floor. Santos propped himself up on his elbows.

"_Dios mio..._"

She stood in the hallway, practically glowing in half-naked glory. She had her hair pulled up off her neck loosely, most of it falling out in tiny, black curls like her sister's. She wore a navy colored A-shirt that only came down to her navel and a pair of hot pink running shorts folded over once at the waistband making them even shorter. If the rest of her hadn't been so heart-stopping to look at, the fact that she was wearing boots would have been hilarious. In truth, none of them had the willpower to make it that far.

She came from somewhere with a lot more sun and a lot less clothing because she was by far the tannest among them. She might have once been darker than Santos but it had begun to fade back to a normal color due to lack of exposure and, probably, a lack of giving a shit. The three men were mesmerized.

She looked up from the bag she had in her hand and slung the towel she'd just gotten off the table over her shoulder. She didn't seem too surprised that they were all staring at her. Instead a wicked smile hid in the corner of her mouth, trying to escape.

She looked from Santos to Munder to Dodge and when no one said anything she leaned against the door frame, her body visibly stretching under her scant clothing as she moved. She said something and no one answered her. She cocked an eyebrow at them.

"Hey, fuckers!"

They all snapped out of it and answered unanimously, "What?"

She giggled. Not a schoolgirl giggle, either. It was the confident chuckle of a woman who knew exactly what her body did to men and it said "_I'm about to steal your soul._" Munder still heard that laugh in his dreams. Often.

Her eyes narrowed with glee, "I'm up here, dick weasels."

Dodge muttered some apology, scratching his eyebrow in embarrassment, but Munder didn't even look up. His response was, "Uh-huh." Santos decided silence was the best answer.

Her gaze shifted between Munder and Dodge when she asked again slowly, as if speaking to morons, "Is. There. An-ee-one...in th-ee bath-room?"

They responded at the same time, but with two different answers. Dodge said, "No" and Munder said "Not yet."

She giggled again, her eyes on Munder now. As she lifted herself from the door jamb her hand traveled down her towel, over her breast and slowed, toying with the hem of her shirt. As she turned to walk away, it lifted up slightly revealing more of her stomach. Her eyes burned into Munder's and she said over her shoulder, "I think you're right about that."

No one moved for a long moment, and even after they heard the bathroom door close and the shower start up they were still frozen in place. Finally, Dodge broke the silence, "Fuck you, Munder."

Munder just laughed. The other two simultaneously cursed and congratulated him and he felt a swell of male pride in his handling of the situation. He and Dodge went tentatively back to the dishes but their hearts weren't in it. Munder's eyes kept shifting back to the hallway, even after he lit a cigarette. Dodge looked a little starry-eyed and almost dropped one of the dishes when he handed it to Munder, who almost didn't catch it. Santos stared blankly at the TV, its narrator droning on and on to the mostly silent room.

Their conversation picked back up in a few minutes and, while they didn't want to talk directly about it, they weren't allowing it to pass unmentioned either. Joking about it seemed to ease the tension. Dodge wondered if she ever wore a bra. Santos wondered if she shaved, and Munder was thinking to himself about how she'd looked at him. Her eyes had been green fire and it had started a chain reaction inside him. He'd been attracted to her since she saw him but he'd thought she'd ignore him like most women did. Now, he was wondering if there was something there.

The dishes got done and everything was put away. Dodge was saying something and Munder was twirling the towel he'd been using to dry the dishes. He asked absent-mindedly what the hell he was supposed to do with it.

Dodge told him to hang it up. He asked where. They were looking around when a terrible smile crept across Dodge's face. You didn't see that look on Dodge's face very often but when you did, you knew something was about to go down. Munder raised his eyebrows in question. And then Dodge spoke aloud the worst idea he'd ever come up with, "You could hang it in the bathroom."

The two of them grinned at each other like fucking idiots and all three of them laughed about it. Stupid...really fucking stupid. And what was worse, Munder decided he would. Bolstered by the previous interaction, he walked casually down the hall and knocked on the bathroom door. His shit-eating grin still plastered on, he tried to rid himself of it before she answered.

He heard her "Uh-huh" from inside and he cracked the door open a little to ask her if he could hang the towel up in there. He even held it through the door like a white flag, though they both knew the truth about that. He was disappointed that the shower wasn't running anymore but it didn't ruin his hopes. She said sure and he nudged the door open with his boot. What it revealed made his jaw land on the floor.

This was the point where all his dreams start, this was the place in time his mind kept looping to, and it was about to drive him crazy. Everything that went wrong, went _horribly_ wrong in that very tiny room. Nothing he did or could do about it made the dreams go away. Nor did they get any less enjoyable.

As the door swung open she looked at him sideways, slowing the strokes of her toothbrush. One arm held her weight on the sink, her back arched down and one knee bent casually. Her ass was almost brushing the opposite wall, just screaming to be touched. His eyes swept over her and back to her face, her brushing becoming more and more an obvious statement as her tongue got involved. She tipped her head, watching him both hungrily and curiously, a devious twinkle in her eye.

He cleared his throat and made to pass behind her to reach the towel rack. She let him, standing up enough that he could squeeze past if he pressed himself against the wall. Even then, he was almost rubbing against her. He was a little disappointed that he didn't but didn't want her to slap him either.

He placed a warning hand on her hip as he passed, as if to say "Hey, I'm right here." She inhaled sharply and he prepared for the worst, but when she didn't do anything, he took it as a good sign and left it there for as long as possible.

He hung up the towel as she rinsed out her mouth. She watched him in the mirror and he watched her, a smirk on his face. He could barely believe he was doing this. The air was electrified, every breath thunderous, every movement a to his system. He made his gestures slow and deliberate, trying to drag out the experience.

She was staring at him like a hungry dog would a piece of meat and he wasn't quite sure what to do about it. Women didn't look at him like that and he was confused and aroused. He may have been blushing as he bit his lip. Damn it, she was hot. He could have spent all day just looking at her. He didn't want it to end but once he'd successfully hung up the towel and straightened it, he figured there wasn't anything else he could do to justify staying in there. He started to pass behind her again, a little crestfallen, and she moved to let him.

He reached out to put the warning hand on her hip again, judging by his previous experience that she wouldn't mind too much. But since it was the same hand as before he slid it across her ass to get it there. He cupped a little bit, feeling her muscles tighten under his gentle pressure. He thought he was being flirtatious, smiling to himself. If she didn't mind him touching her, the rest of this trip would be a hell of a lot more fun. Little did he know that shit was about to hit the fan.

He was taken completely by surprise when she pushed back with her hips and pinned him against the wall with the ass he'd been admiring. He still couldn't be sure but he may have let an "Oh God" slip past his lips.

He put both hands on her hips as she bent over, twisting slightly so as much of her rubbed against him as possible. As she reached for the towel to wipe her mouth, she rocked her hips, exposing the toned muscles of her back when she moved. He was unable to help himself. His hand moved up her back, under her shirt and he moaned quietly. Her skin was still damp from the shower and he could smell the soap she'd used. He'd never gotten hard so fast but, then again, it had already been well on its way. His other hand tightened its grip on her hip and he pulled her into him. He realized he was breathing heavily.

That was also when he noticed that she was looking at him in the mirror. She was wiping the edge of her lower lip with her thumb. He saw her tongue sneak out, testing the skin of it before her teeth closed gently around the tip. He took a deep shuddering breath, biting his lip again, his hand shifting from her back to her front. She looked at him over her shoulder now, those green, burning eyes setting him on fire. He exhaled quickly as she licked her lips.

He couldn't remember how but in the next instant her back was pressed against him and her hips were moving again. He bit her shoulder to stop from moaning again, moving up her neck if only to hear her whimper. Her curly hair was wet and it trailed along his face. She smelled like fruit. She reached up and behind him with both her arms, her hands loosening his hair and burying her fingers in it.

This one choice of position allowed him complete freedom to explore her breasts and he didn't refuse himself this ample pleasure. He used both hands for a short while, then ran the fingers of one hand over the waistband of her shorts. He wasn't sure which did it but she broke out in goose bumps and he felt her body start shaking. He ran his lips along her ear and when he paused at her throat he could feel her rapid pulse.

She didn't make very many noises but the ones that she did were branded into his memory. He could barely hear her but each sigh was amplified and each whimper set his hair on end. She bent her knees a little, dipping for a moment before dragging her ass up his front and that did it. The hand at her waistband dove underneath, meeting no resistance from any fabric underneath. She gasped, the first real sound she'd made, and as his hand pushed deeper she breathed, "Oh, fuck."

Santos would have loved to know that the answer to his question was: very yes.

Maybe two minutes had passed since he'd knocked on the door. The first thing he actually said since entering the room was barely spoken. He whispered, his voice gravely, "No bra, no panties. What do you wear?"

While one of her hands caressed his cheek as he spoke, the other reached down behind her, unbuttoning his pants and easily pulling his zipper open. He felt her hand searching for him and when she found what she was looking for, her firm grip and delicate skin made him exhale harshly. He barely heard her, her voice was so soft and shaky, "As little as possible."

He thought he was about to have a heart attack, her hand pulling on him. He wrapped his fingers around both of her wrists and guided them away from him, pressing her palms against the wall above the sink. This put her in a compromising position, and she showed him how much she enjoyed it by squirming against his body. She didn't resist him holding her hands captive but she used her hips to egg him on, quieted moans escaping her lips.

He pressed his lips to her ear, she turned into it. His voice was hardly his own, "Woman, you make me want to do dirty things to you." It was part admittance, part warning.

She whirled to face him. Only one hand grabbed him by the front of his shirt because the other was already occupied down south. She pulled him face to face with her, her eyes blazing, and challenged, "Oh, yeah?" She firmly planted a booted foot against the wall behind him. "Prove it."

Here, his dreams begin to vary. He discovered many, many different endings to this situation, all of them pleasurable, any of them where she ended up on her knees being his favorite. However, what really happened was what he'd had to live with for the last ten days and it wasn't on his list of preferred outcomes.

He slid his hand up the inside of her thigh and found it enjoyably easy to get into her shorts. His fingers encountered smooth wetness and she tilted her head back in ecstasy. He lifted her onto the corner of the sink, his arm wrapped around her bare waist. He teased her, softly brushing the sensitive skin making her writhe and gasp. He could feel her tensing everywhere and she was getting more wet the longer he waited. The leg that wasn't pushing on the wall wrapped itself around his, drawing him in further between her legs.

He was dangerously close to her, their hands touched each other in their separate movements. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers as his fingers did the same elsewhere. He felt her tongue against his bottom lip and he shivered. As he was about to conquer her mouth a very loud voice made him jump out of his skin.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!"

He really jumped, too, almost pushing inside her just out of proximity. He removed his hand, immensely glad that her leg was blocking everything. They looked to the door, open and forgotten in their haste.

In its place was Epps, so pissed off he thought his dick would just fall to the floor. But it didn't. It stayed hard in her hand because it didn't know what was good for it. He buried his face against her shoulder and muttered, "Oh shit."

Epps was too angry to yell, too angry to do anything except sputter. It took her a good moment of staring at them in complete disbelief before she could harness her rage into valuable English. "What?! How...are you..._Are you fucking kidding me_?!"

She made a move that said she wanted to pull the two of them apart and he was worried she was going to try but that would've been a worse idea than him hanging the towel in the bathroom. "No, God. I'm not even coming in there. You get the fuck out here. Jesus!"

She glared at them from the hallway, pointing toward the galley. And it was in this moment that he realized Lena had no intention of listening to her sister. As it turned out, she was as pissed off about being interrupted as Epps was about finding them.

"Why don't you take that stick you have shoved up your ass and go to hell?" Her teeth were clenched and her grip on his shirt had tightened furiously. He thought she was going to rip it off of him. Luckily, her grip elsewhere was not a part of that reaction. It stayed gentle and provocative, like her hand had a mind of its own. It began to move again.

He was torn between embarrassment and raging arousal, both emotions fighting to take him over. He started to shake his head, but his lips brushed her collarbone and he had to stop.

Epps' reply was a barely restrained snarl, "Don't you fucking dare, Elena."

Lena tilted her head in an unwise mockery of her sister, "Oh yeah? Watch me dare, bitch."

With that she kicked the door shut in her sister's angry face. There was a noise as it shook with the force of Epps' fist and then nothing. They looked at each other, catching their breath.

He began to loosen his grip around her waist, his eyes telling her he was about to back off. He watched her face harden and then his head hit the wall behind him as she used her grip on his shirt to pin him to the wall a second time. She released his shirt and told him, "Don't you try it."

He was about to say something when his knees buckled. Both her hands were holding him now, and he stopped being able to think. He put his hands back on her waist just to keep himself standing. His mind swam with pleasure and anxiety, and he battled with his desire for her to keep going and his desire to not get killed by Epps. It was all very frustrating.

They heard the sound of a shotgun being pumped through the door and he slid to the floor, unable to support himself anymore. Lena stepped over him and flung the door open. Seeing nothing there, she stepped into the hallway and looked in the direction of the galley. He wasn't watching anymore - he was trying to bring his vision into focus. He heard her say, "You've got to be kidding me!" and after that there was a lot of yelling that his ears couldn't translate.

After about fifteen minutes of being left by himself, he was able to stand up and button his pants. He turned off the bathroom light, his head still swirling. He stumbled out of the door, slamming ungracefully into the wall across from it. This alerted Epps to his presence, and he found the barrel of a shotgun pointed at his chest.

That was too much for him to handle. He stumbled backwards, begging her not to fucking shoot him. He backed himself into his room and locked the door. He sat there on the floor in front of the bunks with his knees practically to his chin just shaking his head, trying to make sense of it. Any of it.

Eventually, someone knocked on the door. He wasn't going to let them in, but it turned out to be Dodge so he caved. Dodge had a look on his face that was a strange mixture of amusement and brotherly concern. He handed his cowering roommate a pack of cigarettes and lighter, stifling a laugh with his other hand.

Eyes still wide from the shock, Munder shook out a cigarette and put it shaking into his mouth. He didn't talk for a while after it was lit. It took two cigarettes, one right after the other, to calm him down. Dodge just sat on his bunk, shaking in silent laughter, not quite sure what he was waiting for.

Finally, after the laughter had left his friend completely, Munder spoke, "Dodge?"

"Yeah, buddy?"

Munder stared wide-eyed at the closed and locked door, "That was a really bad idea."

He lit another cigarette as his friend rolled onto the floor holding his stomach in laughter.

_Disclaimer: **Coarse Language** - based on the dialog from the movie, I can only assume they curse like sailors. Are we really surprised? I took a few artistic liberties with the layout of the ship. It works nicely for the story, but I doubt the ship in the movie was really this big. So, know that I'm not a complete idiot. Also, I do not own Ghost Ship or any of it's characters. This story is mine, though, and I hope you enjoy it thoroughly._


End file.
